One Evening of Bliss
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: A companion piece to my new Sherlolly love letter series, The Beauty of a Lost Art. Sherlock takes Molly out to dinner for their first date. Post-TFP.


**Author's Note:** **You do not need to read The Beauty of a Lost Art to enjoy this oneshot, but I would be so appreciative if you checked it out! :)**

* * *

Sherlock had knocked on her door as the storm clouds moved in. It had been a week since the Sherrinford incident and he was taking her out to dinner. It was their first date and he had never felt more nervous.

"Hey you," Molly smiled when she opened the door. She wore a peach lace dress that reached her knees and a cropped denim jacket with a pair of grey cotton flats.

"You look lovely," he told her, offering her his arm to take.

"Thank you," she replied. "You're handsome as always." As they got in the cab, rain started sprinkling down. The awkward silence filled the air and Sherlock was noticeably anxious; more than she was to her surprise. He jumped a little when her hand suddenly squeezed his. "It's okay if you're nervous, Sherlock. I am too, but honestly, there's no need to be."

"There isn't?" he asked.

"We've known each other for years and, well, you're my best friend, Sherlock," Molly told him. Yet again, he was surprised that another person considered him as their best friend. "We should just relax and have fun tonight." There was another moment of silence before he spoke again.

"You're my best friend too, Molly, truly," Sherlock told her softly.

When they reached Angelo's, it was pouring down rain and soaking them to the bone.

"Perfect weather," Molly shouted over the sound of the downpour. They laughed together as they made a run for the door.

"Sherlock, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Angelo asked upon spotting their entrance, gesturing with amusement at their soaked state.

"Ah, well, haven't you heard? We're pirates now and we've been washed ashore," he joked.

"The wrong side of the law doesn't suit you," Angelo laughed. "And who is this lovely young lady?"

"I'm Molly," she smiled, shaking his hand.

"She's the love of my life, Angelo," Sherlock beamed. Molly's heart skipped a beat at his declaration. They were shown to their table and ordered their drinks. As they waited, they held each other's hands across the table.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked.

"Immensely," he replied.

"You would make a very convincing pirate," Molly told him.

"Oh, you think so?" Sherlock asked with a chuckle. His eyes crinkled at the corners and Molly couldn't help but smile at how happy he looked.

* * *

They had ordered their food; baked ziti for him and fettucine alfredo for her.

"And do you remember that doorbell!?" Molly giggled.

"Mind the gap," they mimicked in unison. They couldn't stop laughing. A snort sounded from her and it was silent for a few seconds before they started laughing again.

"Okay, but that still isn't as hilarious as the time you stabbed Tom with a fork," Sherlock pointed out.

"Oh God, don't remind me," she groaned.

"Why did you do that, anyway? If you don't mind me asking," he questioned.

"You were trying to solve the case and he inferred that you were pissed," Molly explained. "He had no right to say so. I mean 'meat dagger', really!?" The two of them were laughing again.

* * *

It was still pouring when they arrived back at her flat. She invited him in to get changed into something dry. He had stayed the night before when they were just friends, so nothing was out of the ordinary about this. Molly had tossed him his green tartan pajama pants and a white t-shirt that he kept there to change into. She changed into a pair of her purple tartan pajama pants and an old Doctor Who t-shirt she had.

"Are you blowdrying your flats?" Sherlock chuckled.

"Yes, now stop laughing at me," she answered with amusement. He sat on the floor beside her while she dried the cotton fabric of her shoes. Eventually, she slipped the elastic out of her hair and dried it as best as she could. With a smirk playing on her lips, she took the blowdryer to Sherlock's damp curls.

"Molly, I don't think—" he began as he was going to stop her until her fingers ran through his hair. He loved the feeling of the gentle tugs she gave.

"You're like a cat," Molly joked.

"Feels…nice," was all Sherlock could say, too busy cataloguing the feeling in his mind palace. Unfortunately, Toby came around, pawing at Sherlock's leg, and broke the spell he was under.

"Oh, I need to feed him," she realized, shutting off the blowdryer. "I'll be right back."

* * *

When Molly returned, Sherlock was lying on her sofa, already passed out for the night. He looked more peaceful than she had ever seen him. Smiling to herself, she grabbed an extra blanket out of the linen closet and draped it over him. With a kiss to his forehead, she made her way to her bedroom for the night.


End file.
